Reed realized two things simultaneously-they combined to take his breath away: Rachel was definitely not okay and worse, Alex was with her.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Wednesday, March 17
10:55 P.M.
“No! Rachel, come back here! Help! Help! Somebody!” Alex grabbed the gate and shook it. “Dammit, Rachel!”
Her voice caught on the night air, was lifted and dispersed. She kept calling out anyway, until she was hoarse. Throat raw and voice gone, she shone her flashlight toward the main house, flipping it on and off.
A figured emerged from the path, hurrying toward her.
Treven, she saw. She cried out in relief. “Thank God-”
“Alexandra, what are you-”
“She’s gone to kill Clark! We have to stop her!”
“Kill Clark?” He fumbled with the locks. “Who?”
“Rachel. She has a gun.”
He got the padlock open, then the gate. “That’s crazy. Why would Rachel-”
“He raped her. The night Dylan disappeared.”
He looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. “That’s insane. I don’t know what you think you’re doing but-”
“Trying to save your son’s life! Where is he?”
“I’m calling the police.”
“Good. Yes, call them.” She grabbed his arm. “But by the time they get here, it may be too late. Do you know where Clark is?”
He gazed steadily at her, as if sizing her up, weighing his options.
She tightened her grip on his arm. “I remember everything, Treven. About that night. What was going on. I was there! I’d repressed it all… Rachel helped me remember. That’s how she learned that Clark was-”
He shook off her hand. “I stood up for you. When Reed and others called you crazy. But now, you’re calling my son-”
“Where is he! Home? Out somewhere? All Rachel would have to do is call him, ask to meet, say it was an emergency.”
She was getting through to him, Alex saw. She lowered her voice. “What do you have to lose by believing me?”
“He’s here,” Treven said. “In his office.”
Alex started to run. Treven with her. Light shone from the winery offices. In the parking area beyond, Treven’s BMW and Rachel’s Infiniti were parked, side by side.
They reached the building’s entrance, found it unlocked. “This way,” Treven said. They started forward; a shot rang out.
“No!” Alex cried and ran.
She reached the office and stopped dead. She was too late. Clark lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him.
“Clark!” Treven cried, rushing to his son’s side. He bent and checked his pulse, then looked up at Rachel’s stricken face. “He’s dead. You killed him.”
“I had to do it, Uncle Treven. Don’t you see?”
“Give me the gun, Rachel.” He stood and crossed carefully toward her, hand out.
“He raped me, Uncle Treven. And tonight, he laughed about it. He said-”
“Give me the gun.”
“He called me stupid. And weak.”
Treven took the weapon from her and Rachel slumped against him, crying. He looked at Alex. “Close the door, would you?”
Confused, she did as he asked. He motioned her over. “Check Clark’s pulse again. I thought I saw him move.”
Alex hurried to do it. Squatted beside him, she pressed her finger to his wrist, then throat. Nothing. She looked back up at Treven. And found him holding Rachel, one arm across her throat, the gun to her head.
“Treven?” Alex started to stand. “What are you-”
“Shut up. Stay exactly where you are.”
She froze. Heart thundering, she struggled to breathe evenly, think clearly. She wanted to look at Rachel but was afraid of what he might do if she did.
“Do you have any idea how sick I am of you?” He readjusted his grip on Rachel. Alex used the moment to peek at the other woman. She looked terrified. “I never should have gotten involved with your mother. Of course, I didn’t know what a complete whack job she was.”
Treven was her father. The family resemblance. The baby brush.
He smiled at her expression. “Shocking, isn’t it? Our plan was perfect. She would marry my brother, then break his heart. All the while remaining my mistress.”
“Why?” she asked. “What did you hope to gain-”
“It would hurt him,” he said simply, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
He hated his brother that much, Alex realized, shuddering. Her mother had been right to run.
“Problem was,” he went on, “she fell in love with the twerp, then gave him a son.”
“But it all turned out much better, didn’t it?” Rachel managed, voice tight with fury. “You were able to completely destroy him by killing his son.”
“You,” he said with a sound of regret, “I’m going to miss. You are an excellent winemaker. Clark, on the other hand, brought nothing special to the party.”
“You’re completely evil.”
He laughed. “Perhaps. Let’s get on with this thing.”
“Wait!” Rachel said, struggling to find her voice. “That night, Dylan, how-”
“I bashed his head in,” he said so matter-of-factly Alex’s blood ran cold. “It was so perfect. I was able to swoop in and save the day. Take over the business for poor, devastated Harlan. The way it should have been all along.” His voice hardened. “It should have been mine. I’m the oldest son! Me!”
Rachel struggled and he tightened his grip. “That’s what I want you to do. Fight me. Make it look good. After all, you killed Clark. Then Alex. I tried to stop you-”
“No one will believe you!”
“You’re crazy, Rachel. The rape left you unbalanced. You hid it all these years. Until poor little Dylan was dug up-”
The fire alarm’s piercing shriek rent the air. It mingled with the sound of a shot going off. Alex launched to her feet; a searing pain speared through her.
The office door burst open. Harlan charged through, swinging a wine bottle.
A wine bottle? Alex thought, light-headed. She brought a hand to her side; it came back wet. And red. She fell to her knees. As if from a great distance, she heard the wail of sirens.
“Alex! No!”
Rachel. Holding her. Crying.
The thunder of feet. Voices. Shouting.
“Jesus! Somebody! Get the EMTs-”
“On their way.”
“Hold on, sweetheart.”
Reed. She opened her eyes. He came into focus. She tried to tell him not to worry, but the words came out a jumble.
He leaned close. “Hang in there, baby. It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be just fine. I promise…”
Alex smiled and closed her eyes, serenity flowing over her. She believed him.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
Thursday, March 18
11:10 A.M.
Alex opened her eyes. She hurt. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy.
“Hello, dear. Welcome back.”
A woman came into focus. A nurse. The room followed. A hospital room. IV. Monitors. Flowers.
She returned her gaze to the nurse. “Was I dead?”
The woman chuckled. “Luckily, not even close. How about a sip of water?”
“Yes, please-”
“I’ll take care of that.”
Alex turned her head. Rachel stood in the doorway, equally weighted by a vase of flowers cradled in one arm, a bottle of wine in the other.
Alex managed a weak smile. “Can’t drink while I’m on pain meds.”
“But you won’t be on them forever.” She strolled into the room, exchanging a glance with the nurse as the woman slipped out. “Besides,” she said, setting the bottle on the bedside table, “you lay this baby up, it’ll only get better.”
Alex shook her head, thinking how much she liked her. Cousins, she thought. Amazing. And despite
everything that had happened, wonderful.
She found the remote and raised herself up to a forty-five-degree angle. “Treven shot me.”
“He did.” Rachel held the cup of water and straw to her lips. “Could have been a lot worse, if not for Dad’s quick thinking. I’m so proud of him.”
Alex took another sip, then lay back against the pillows, exhausted.
“Reed had called him. Asked him to check on me.” She pulled the chair over and plopped onto it. “He saw the lights on in the winery and went to investigate.”
Her voice thickened. “He heard it all, Alex.”
Alex reached out her hand. Rachel grasped it. For a long moment, they sat that way. Lost in their own thoughts, drawing comfort from the other. At least Alex knew she was.
“We need to talk,” Rachel said finally.
“Am I up to this?”
“I hope so.” She freed her hand from Alex’s, then immediately looked sorry she had. Instead, she folded both hands in her lap. “I did some things I’m not proud of. Things I hope you can forgive me for. I didn’t do them to hurt you, you have to believe me… I just wanted to… stir things up. Make them, the ones who raped me, nervous. I wanted them, and Dylan’s murderer, to know that their secrets weren’t going to stay buried forever.”
“And you needed my help?”
She looked away, then back. “Yes.”
“You scrawled Remember on my bathroom mirror.”
“Yes.”
“And you butchered those baby dolls.”
“Yes.”
“The lamb?”
“Not me. That one… my guess is Clark or Treven. In the hopes of scaring you off.”
“We’ll never know for sure, will we?”
“Actually, we just might.” At Alex’s expression, she grinned. “Clark’s alive.”
“That’s not… How… I checked his pulse.”
“Not well enough, apparently.” She leaned forward. “The bad news is, I’m a lousy shot. The good news, I didn’t kill anybody. Our family lawyer’s hooking me up with a top criminal attorney. He thinks that, considering the circumstances, I won’t be charged.”
“What about Treven?”
“In jail. Charged with the murder of Dylan Sommer.”
“Am I interrupting?”
Harlan stood in the doorway, also carrying wine and flowers. She had to laugh, though when she did it really hurt.
When she was done grimacing, Alex waved him in. “Of course not.”
He crossed to the bed, deposited his gifts, then hugged his daughter. “I’m so glad I still have you,” he said.
He turned toward Alex. His eyes, she saw, were wet. “And you, too, Alexandra.”
“Our hero,” Rachel said. “But Dad,” she said, “what were you thinking? It was a 2000 Stag’s Pass Reserve. A magnum of it.”
“You’re worth it. Both of you.”
Rachel smiled and kissed his cheek. “Enough crazy talk from you.”
He bent and pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead. “Thank you. I finally know… It’s almost unbearable to think about, but at least-”
He choked on the words and Alex grabbed his hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel the same way.”
He squeezed her hand. “When you’re better, let’s talk. I’d like you to come work for us. After all, it is a family winery.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Monday, May 3
5:45 P.M.
Good men were like pennies from heaven, Alex thought, falling against Reed’s chest, totally spent. And she had found the best one of all.
She pressed her lips to his shoulder, then neck, loving the feel of his heartbeat against her breast, the stirring of his breath against her ear. But most of all, she loved the way he gave himself to her. Wholly and without doubts.
They had left both their doubts and regrets behind.
In the weeks that had passed, their wounds had begun to heal. Her physical wounds had seemed so easy to overcome, the emotional so difficult. One day she was on top of the world and seemingly on the road to recovery, the next ripped wide open, raw and hurting.
It had been just as difficult for Reed. And Rachel. Perhaps more so. Because they faced their parents-and their parents’ sins-every day.
Alex had considered refusing Harlan’s offer and leaving the valley, but had realized that all her life she had longed for family, history, and roots that ran deep. She had that now, she wasn’t about to run away.
She wasn’t like her mother. Alex knew that now. And for the first time in her life, she felt rock solid.
“What’re you thinking?” Reed asked softly, stroking her back.
“About you. How happy you make me.”
“I like that.” He grinned and rolled onto his side, taking her with him so they lay facing one another. “I have something that will make you even happier.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Love the thought. Can I have ten minutes to recover first?”
He laughed. “Not that. D.A. offered Clark a plea deal in exchange for information. Clark’s singing like a bird.”
Alex propped up on an elbow. “I can’t believe it. After all these weeks.”
“Apparently the idea of life in prison wasn’t appealing. Since at the time of Dylan’s murder, Clark was a minor and under his father’s influence, his guilt is reduced in the eyes of the law. He’ll still go to prison, but he won’t rot there. He’s offering up all kinds of details, including ones about the murders of Tom Schwann, Alberto Alvarez, and your ex-husband.”
“Tim,” she whispered, voice catching.
“According to Clark, your ex-husband contacted Treven and started asking questions. Turns out your mother had shared more with Tim than you knew. She’d told him that ‘your father had gained everything from her and Harlan’s loss.’ ”
Tears stung her eyes. “He was trying to help me find my dad. And it got him killed.”
Reed caught one of her tears with his index finger. “Like the rest of us, he didn’t have a clue what Treven was capable of. He probably figured your mother had exaggerated how bad he was.”
Knowing Tim and her mother, it made sense to her. “That he found my father, that was the good news he was going share with me.”
She rested her forehead against Reed’s. “I feel responsible.”
He kissed her. “Don’t, sweetheart. Leave the blame where it should be, solely on Treven Sommer’s head.”
“He killed Tom Schwann. Why?”
“Schwann was cracking under the pressure. Making noises about going to the police. Treven wasn’t about to chance that. He saw the opportunity and took it. Same as he had twenty-five years ago.” Reed paused. “There’s more.”
She tipped her head back to look him in the eyes. “More?”
“Treven’s decided to change his plea to guilty.”
She caught her breath. “That means no trial.”
“That’s right, just sentencing. I can’t lie, it’s a big relief.”
They had managed to keep the most salacious details of the case out of the media. The valley wine community was a tight one and those involved had been extremely powerful, but once the trial had begun, no amount of influence would have kept the muck from flowing.
“As angry and disappointed as I am in my parents and brother, I dreaded our name being dragged through the mud.”
“What have you decided about Red Crest?” she asked, referring to his brothers’ request that he join them at the winery. “Your dad’s stepping down in just a few days.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “The vines are in your blood, you know. You can’t escape it.”
He rolled her onto her back. “You’re what’s in my blood, Alexandra. And I have no intention of going anywhere.”
Erica Spindler
***
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Blood Vines Page 33